Inky Roses
by soniagiris
Summary: Right now, the florist - a young girl with blond hair tied in a bun on the top of her head, dressed in a white apron underneath sundress - sets a few vases outside and gently arranges a bunch of sun-golden marigolds in simple yet cute compositions. When she straightens up, her eyes meet Shuichi's, and she smiles and waves at him.


Opening his sketchbook and plucking a pencil from behind his ear, Shuichi eyes Amami-kun and asks,

"O-okay, what's your concept this time?"

"Hmm," the other boy touches his chin in thought. "I would like something connected with my third youngest sister, ya know, 'cause she's leaving to study in America next week, and I won't see her for, like, a year or so. So it'd be nice to have something to remember her, you feel?"

"I-I do. Kind of." Shuichi nods and pens a few words on the top of the page. "So, if you were to pick a small number of things you connect with her, what would you choose?"

When Amami-kun starts listing out his sister's traits, Shuichi listens to him only partially, noting down the essentials whilst looking through the front window of his shop.

Whenever it's summer and air gets heavier, the smell from the flower shop just across the narrow street wafts into his parlor, roses and gardenias and orchids mixing with the thick scent of ink and skin. Kiibo-kun, Shuichi's assistant, always wrinkles his nose at this particular cocktail, but never says a word.

Right now, the florist — a young girl with blond hair tied in a messy bun on the top of her head, dressed in a white apron overtop a sundress — sets a few vases outside and gently arranges a bunch of sun-golden marigolds in simple yet cute compositions. When she straightens up, her eyes meet Shuichi's, and she smiles, then waves at him.

"—and she really likes... flowers." Amami-kun clears his throat meaningfully. "Any problem, Saihara-kun?"

"N-no, why would there be?!" Shuichi laughs nervously.

Amami-kun slowly nods, tightening his lips, and Shuichi doesn't sneak a peek outside the window for the rest of the day.

* * *

He's elbows deep in doodling, three half-empty cups of coffee and a chocolate bar wrapper lying by a pencil case with spare pencils, when the doorbell rings and Kiibo-kun, manning the register and the phone, calls, "Saihara-kun!"

"Coming!" he replies and stumbles to the main room.

And sees the florist looking at him with a welcoming smile.

"Hi," she says, dipping her head in greeting.

"Hello." Shuichi bows politely and asks, "How can I help you?" In the corner of his eye, he sees Kiibo-kun moving to the back room and giving him an encouraging grin.

"Well, I guess I'd like to get a tattoo," the girl raises her brow. Shuichi flushes.

"Y-yeah, well..." He coughs into his fist, then asks, "Do you have any idea about the theme, concept, color, placement and such?"

"Mm, something around my neck, I think..." she taps her lower lip in thought. "White, preferably, and flower-themed, of course."

The wink she gives him leaves Shuichi quite ensured she noticed him staring at her the day before. And three days before. And— yeah. With his cheeks still embarrassingly pink, he writes her ideas down and remarks,

"Inking the front of your neck can be painful, just so you know."

"I think I can handle that, Saihara-san," she says gently, pronouncing his name as if it was a sweet candy. Ugh. Damn.

"O-okay. If you have any patterns you like, could you..."

"Sure!" She slips him a cheap flash drive. "When can I show up?"

"One second." Shuichi opens his planner and scowls at it. "Next Thursday I should have a selection of drafts for you to choose from, and then, uh, around noon on the seventeenth of March for inking?" He flips the page. "And then thirty-first if you want it colored..."

"I don't think I want that," she says, checking her phone. "Yeah, it can do. Thank you!"

"You're welcome," Shuichi says, not mentioning how many all-nighters he's gonna pull to meet the deadline. "Now, if I could have your name..." He writes down the date and the rough price of the service, then hands it to her.

"Kaede, Kaede Akamatsu."

"See you then, Akamatsu-san."

"Oh, I think we'll see each other, all right," Akamatsu-san laughs. The smile she gives him as she turns to the door blinds him. Kiibo-kun peeps out, takes one look at Shuichi and shakes his head with exasperation.

* * *

The message comes when he's halfway through the second page of Akamatsu-san's tattoo ideas and with his phone looping the playlist (alt-pop and piano music) for the third time. Minimizing the Spotify app, Shuichi swears under his breath and reads the text, then curses once again.

"What's wrong, Saihara-chan?" Ouma-kun asks from where he's chilling on the sofa, a bottle of Panta in one hand and a Mentos pill in another. Sensing an oncoming (and yet another, goddamn hell—) disaster, Shuichi casually plucks the soda from his roommate's grip and answers,

"Uncle Makoto wants me to show up tomorrow afternoon and test Aunt Kyoko's new, uh, attempt to cook something." He rolls his eyes fondly, then frowns. "Which means that, if I want to finish the design for Amami-kun, today I will sleep for..." he checks his watch. "Three hours. At most." He takes a sip of the drink and suppresses a gag, but the grin Ouma-kun gives him is knowing.

No. Wait. It's the Scheming one, which means — uh oh.

"What's wrong?" Shuichi echoes, tilting his head.

"Aaah, so Saihara-chan apparently forgot tomorrow is the International Women's Day..." Ouma-kun pauses for a second, throws the candy into his mouth, then continues, "And now he's trying to think of what to get his auntie, isn't he? But, ah, didn't he spend about twenty minutes two days ago talking my head off about this cute florist?" He presses hands to his cheeks in a mock excitement.

"Well..." Shuichi flashes him a small smile. "I kind of... did. Thank you, Ouma-kun."

"But be careful, you know..." Ouma-kun pulls his face into a somber expression. "Once I took a guy out for a date, and I bought him flowers. But, guess what? He was allergic to them! And he died!"

"Really?"

"Nope, I lied!"

When Ouma-kun dissolves into a fit of proud giggles, Shuichi goes back to his room, turns the music back on and sets the purloined bottle on his table.

Sighs deeply.

Grabs a can of energy drink from a drawer, pours its contents into the warmest cup of coffee he can find, then goes back to work.

* * *

From what he could tell, Akamatsu-san has a sizeable assortment of already prepared bouquets, so, instead of worrying about pre-ordering one, Shuichi worries only about talking to the woman. Amami-kun picks it up, judging by the perpetual smirk he wears while browsing the projects, but doesn't comment on it. Neither does Kiibo-kun, even when Shuichi tells him he'll be right back, leaves the salon and crosses the street. But, hey, Kiibo-kun seems fazed by everything but the correct stuff.

Funky Melodies, Shuichi mouths when he's rereading the door plate, then shrugs and goes inside.

Akamatsu-san turns away from the flowers she was watering and smiles warmly at him.

"Hi," she chirps. "Nice of you to show up here too — I mean, I presume you're here because of today's date, right?"

"H-hello, and, yeah..." He shuffles his feet, then adds, "I'd like a bouquet for my aunt."

"Huh," Akamatsu-san says as she guides him to the proper selection of various bunches. "Not a girlfriend?"

"U-uh...!" Shuichi, feeling himself turning bright red, glues his eyes to a random daffodil."N-no, I don't, don't have one."

"I see," Akamatsu-san sing-songs, then points at one vase, filled with cattails, hollies, and dark pink roses. "This one, perhaps? It means gratitude and domestic love."

"Mm, I'm not very good at such stuff," Shuichi mutters. "But it looks pretty..."

"I think so," Akamatsu-san nods. "So, do you want to keep looking or—"

"N-no, let's go with this one," he stammers out. When Akamatsu-san gives him a befuddled look, he manages, "I'm on a tight schedule. Got a bit too enthralled when sketching f-for you."

"I see." Akamatsu-san's expression is unclear but, when she hands him the paper-wrapped bouquet and the receipt, Shuichi spots a string of numbers on the paper.

"Guess you're pretty curious why I'd want to get tattooed," she says after seeing his bemusement, then smiles once again. "Call me, okay?"

Just a few days (and one session of squeeing) later, he does.

And doesn't fucking regret it.


End file.
